


The Bartender and the Thief (Are Lovers)

by misura



Category: Sarai-ya Goyou | House of Five Leaves
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, Multi, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2003091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Otake takes to spending her afternoons at Ume's new place.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bartender and the Thief (Are Lovers)

Otake takes to spending her afternoons at Ume's new place, after Ichi and Masa's departure for parts unknown; she half-suspects Ichi might have a destination in mind, after all, but it is not a secret she feels is owed her; it's Ichi's business, and possibly Masa's.

She allows herself to miss them, a little. It's easy to grow used to some people.

Watching Ume as Matsu enters, she supposes she might be alone in this feeling.

 

"For Okuni," Matsu says, dropping a hair pin on the counter in front of Ume as if it is a burden he is pleased to have ridden himself of, finally.

Otake watches the emotions passing over Ume's face. Surprise. Suspicion. Incredulity.

Anger, which is a given, of course, given that it's Matsu. Some things don't change.

"You can give it to her yourself." Ume glowers at the hair pin. It is lovely, as is all of Matsu's work. Not nearly enough people tell Matsu this, Otake thinks - or at least, not nearly enough people whose opinions matter to him for reasons beyond those of business.

At heart, Matsu is a very insecure man. But then, most men are.

"She's not here right now," Matsu says. Too patiently. "You are. So I thought you could give it to her."

"You thought wrong," Ume says. With no patience at all. For one moment, Otake thinks he might actually sweep the hair pin off the counter, onto the floor, which is clean, for a floor, but not clean enough for such an action to be without consequences.

The moment lengthens; Matsu stands, quietly angry, annoyed, while Ume looks away, ignoring both him and the hair pin.

Some things don't change, indeed.

Some do, however. Some _have_ , a little over three months ago now.

"Oh, Ume, just take it and say 'thank you'," Otake says. "It's beautiful; you know she'll love it."

"Thank you," Ume says, obediently. Flatly. "Can I get you anything? Some sake? Pickles?"

"No." Matsu's turn to look away; there's a certain kind of symmetry in this, Otake thinks; a certain joy to be found in watching the two of them at this dance, both in turn awkward and graceful. If one approaches, the other retreats. "That's all right."

"You should grow your hair out again, Ume," Otake says, because she can. She may be part of their dance, but not always, and unlike the two of them, she doesn't choose her steps based on a desire to maintain a status quo, to keep everything as it has always been, at least in public.

"Naw," Ume says. Something flashes in Matsu's eyes.

"It's fine." Matsu's back is still to Ume; he's facing Otake. He might notice she's wearing one of the several hair ornaments he's given her over the past months.

She wears them because they are well-made, and beautiful, and because she knows Matsu likes it when she does, in much the same way (she thinks) Ume enjoys feeding her. In much the same way Ume enjoys feeding Matsu, even if Matsu's meals are served unsmilingly.

(They are served, though, and by Ume himself. Never Okuni, not for the past three months now.)

"It would look strange, don't you think?" Otake says, pensively. "Honestly, I can't imagine it at all. He probably wouldn't look like Ume anymore."

"Just as well I wasn't going to do it anyway, then, ain't it?" Ume scowls. "I'll get you some sake."

"We can all drink together," Otake says, accepting this proposal by way of a compromise.

She still loves sake. She hasn't tasted the expensive kind she used to enjoy for quite a while now, though, and tries to pretend she doesn't care, that good company may make sake taste as good as knowing how much money you paid for it, and where that money came from.

Thus far, she hasn't yet managed to fool herself even once.

"What about Masa's cat?" Matsu sits. "You promised him you'd take care of it, didn't you?"

"Not like it's going to starve if she doesn't feed it for one night," Ume says, sitting down as well. He's closer to Otake than he is to Matsu, until Matsu scoots over a bit, and then they're all equally close to each other - or equally far away.

The hair pin has been wrapped in a piece of cloth. Otake wonders how much Okuni knows of this, of _them_. Wonders if Okuni knows what it will mean, if she wears it. To her father. To Matsu.

Wonders if Ichi will see it, when he returns home, and _know_. Masa won't, naturally; Masa is quite oblivious to these things, still. It's part of his charm.

"I do hope they're all right," Otake muses. It's natural to worry, she feels; she likes Ichi and Masa both, but liking them doesn't exclude knowing them.

"You ask me, they're both a bit crazy," Ume says, too harshly to be sincere.

Matsu sips his sake. "I hadn't expected them to become such close friends."

Otake thinks Masa probably didn't, either. Ichi, she's less sure about. It's not always easy to objectively and fairly judge those to whom one owes one's freedom, and Ichi has always been difficult to read.

Masa is good for him; she does believe that. Perhaps that is all she needs to know.

Masa, who is so very easy to read, to goad into foolish acts of chivalry. Who defends another man's honor, another man's life, so much more fiercely than his own.

Who has sworn never to touch a sword again, or even a dagger.

Not a good oath to take, Otake can't but think, when you ought to be all too aware that you have found a person you would kill for, if doing so would keep them safe.

So. Ume's probably wrong, if he call them both a bit crazy.

It's much worse than 'a bit'.

"I think Ichi deserves someone who is always honest," Otake says. "A friend."

Ume snorts. Matsu looks faintly amused; Otake is unsure if it's at her discretion or at Ume's reaction.

"Friends are a good thing to have, aren't they?" They are, none of them, poor. They do not need to worry about being tracked down and arrested for kidnapping. "Well, friends and sake."

There's a smile tugging at the corners of Ume's mouth; he stifles it with a sigh.

"I think you're right," Matsu says, which gets Ume to glower at him. Which was probably his intention.

Perhaps, Otake muses, this is what it means to be happy: to be more than a little bit crazy, and find people who are likewise afflicted.


End file.
